


A Little Bit of Christmas Magic

by XenophonSpeaks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Jean's POV, M/M, sixth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5631508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenophonSpeaks/pseuds/XenophonSpeaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jean learns that Eren will be staying at Hogwarts alone for the Christmas holiday, he has a small life crisis. He decides to do the right thing in order to ensure Eren doesn't spend the holiday alone.</p><p>He's not entirely sure what he expected to happen, but it certainly wasn't this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HOOBOY OK SO HERE WE GO. This was originally intended to be a holiday prompt fill, but guess what ended up getting away from me and becoming a small monster instead? The original prompt was sent to me by the-ugly-fic-ling on tumblr (aka: Brambles, evil prompt giver and destroyer of worlds) and read thus:  
> "Oh man, friend, do I have a prompt for you. EreJean Harry Potter AU where Eren is muggleborn and, with his parents out of the picture, he has nowhere to go for the Christmas holiday and was going to have to spend the holiday at Hogwarts alone. Jean has a warm, loving family to go home to, and while he and Eren don't always get along, Jean decides to A: stay at Hogwarts, or B: invite Eren to stay with him and his family. o~o shenanigans ensue."
> 
> Well here you are, friend. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> PS: There's no smut in this one because I didn't feel comfortable writing two sixteen year olds getting the frick-frack on. I am 26 years old. That just felt... no. So instead have a lot of fluff and awkward angry boys.

It had been bothering Jean for roughly a month now. Ever since Thanksgiving, really. The sudden reminder that holidays were a thing that actually did in fact exist made Jean nostalgic for his mother’s cooking, for the sight of presents under the tree, for the warmth of a fire in his childhood home.

Which was probably why it suddenly occurred to him during the Thanksgiving feast that Eren would be experiencing none of that.

This usually wasn’t something Jean gave much thought to. Nevermind the fact that he was aware of what Eren had done for every holiday for the last five years of their academic careers; Eren was just always around, always loud and obnoxious and sometimes _weirdly attractive_ (a newer factor which Jean was still trying to sort out, mostly by ignoring it’s existence) so he just always happened to _hear_ what was going on with him. It wasn’t like he was trying to pay _attention_ to Eren or anything. If people just happened to be talking near him while eating dinner, and Jean just happened to hear what they were saying, no one could blame him.

Which was how Jean became acutely aware that Eren would be spending this year’s Christmas holiday alone.

“I’ll be fine, Mikasa,” Eren was saying during the Thanksgiving feast, waving her off with a slight frown. “Your training camp is important. You can’t just not go.”

Jean could see the worry shining out of Mikasa’s eyes from where they peered over her red Gryffindor scarf.

He took a swig of pumpkin juice and a bite of mashed potatoes, trying to appear as though he wasn’t in fact eavesdropping on their conversation.

“And before you even say anything,” Eren suddenly cut in just as Jean saw Armin open his mouth, pointing a spoon at him accusingly, “you are _not_ missing your internship because of me. And no pulling any Slytherin cleverness, either. I’ll know if you do.”

Jean felt a brief stab of sympathy for both Armin and Mikasa. He could tell they felt guilty, but arguing with Eren was like trying to argue with a hippogriff most days; it usually ended poorly for everyone involved.

“You could still stay with my grandfather,” Armin pressed quietly, taking a dejected bite of pumpkin pie.

Jean snorted, abruptly dropping his ruse and rolling his eyes. “Your grandfather doesn’t deserve to have to put up with that level of irritation for the holidays, Armin. Frankly, no one does.”

Eren shot Jean a glare, throwing a piece of his breadroll down the table at him half-heartedly. And probably only half-heartedly because he was well aware at this point that anything constituting an actual attack on Jean’s person would lead immediately to an all-out food fight in the Great Hall, which was an experience neither of them was particularly interested in repeating-- for the fourth or fifth time, Jean wasn’t really sure, he’d lost count.

Mikasa whipped her head around to level Jean with a look so furious he actually flinched back.

“It’s _fine_ , guys. Really. I’m fine. I’ll _be_ fine. I’d rather spend it alone anyway,” Eren said, shaking his head before abruptly changing the subject.

But Jean knew Eren well enough to know when he was lying, and the fact that he could tell how bad of a lie Eren’s statement was quietly ate away at something in Jean for the next several weeks.

 

\---

 

“I’m not going home,” Jean said a week before the holiday break was to begin, walking –or rather, stomping—his way to their advanced potions lesson, face looking much like a dark and brooding storm cloud.

“Jean, that’s crazy. Your mother will _kill you_ if you don’t go home for Christmas,” Marco quietly insisted from beside him, long legs easily keeping pace with Jean’s rapid angry stumbling.

“Yeah, well,” Jean mumbled uncomfortably, adjusting his books in his arms. “Too late. I already wrote her about it last night.”

Marco was silent for all of five seconds. Jean could almost _feel_ the curiosity eating at him before he finally spoke up. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like telling me why or you don’t feel like going home for Christmas?”

“I don’t— _both_ , actually,” Jean spat, nearly tripping over his own robes in his haste to get to their shared class just so Marco would _shut up about it_ , particularly in public _._

Jean should have known better than to bring this up now of all times, really. Marco and Jean had been friends since their first year at Hogwarts, and if Jean knew one thing about him, it was that when Marco was curious about something, he did not let up until he had an answer.

And he was particularly good at arguing.

“That’s ludicrous,” Marco said reasonably. Ravenclaws, Jean had learned painfully over the years, were nearly always far too reasonable, Jean noted sourly. “You love your mother’s cooking. And you love wearing those obnoxious enchanted pajamas for the holidays. You know, the ones you’re too embarrassed to wear at Hogwarts? Remember?” he prompted, a glint in his eyes that told Jean he was in for some trouble.

Jean shushed him vehemently, face flushing as he grabbed the collar of Marco’s robes, pulling him down to whisper harshly, “Dude, what the hell. We agreed never to mention those again.”

“But the little dancing mistletoe is priceless!”

“ _Marco!_ ”

Down the hall behind them Jean heard a loud sound of discontent. “Can’t you two _please_ keep the PDA for when you’re in private?”

Jean whipped around to find Eren looking disgruntled. “We’re not—Marco is not my boyfriend, for fucks sake, Eren. Why do you always do this.”

Beside him, Marco nodded sagely. “Yes, Jean isn’t really my type. Besides, I have a girlfriend now, and I believe in upholding my commitments.”

Jean nodded, crossing his arms and turning to fix Eren with a smug look.

He was vaguely surprised to find Eren looked genuinely shocked by this information. And perhaps a little embarrassed. That part made something in Jean flare up with pride, feeling like he’d won something and yet not being quite sure about what that something might be.

“Oh,” Eren mumbled, “I, uh. Didn’t know. Congratulations?” he offered awkwardly.

Marco shook his head, smiling, always quick to forgive. It was one of the things about Marco that Jean found equally admirable and irritating. “It’s fine. No harm, no foul. But Jean here is painfully single, so there’s hope for you yet, Eren.”

Eren made a choked noise, mouth falling open as his face turned a shade of red as bright as his stupid poorly-knotted tie.

“ _Marco!_ ” Jean hissed again, giving him a good shove. “That’s—that’s gross. He’s gross. _You’re_ gross.”

“Yeah,” Eren said angrily, bumping into Jean with his shoulder roughly as he made a beeline past them. “ _Definitely_ gross.”

“I’m just trying to help, Jean,” Marco said defensively, watching Eren duck through the door to the potions lab with undisguised interest.

Jean felt mortified. “Can you, like, _not_? That’s just so—I would never want to—I mean he’s just, like—“ Jean made a disgusted face, waving his hand around in a flurry as if to wipe the very idea of it away.

Marco laughed, making his way toward the door of the classroom again. “You always say that, and I still don’t believe you.”

Jean groaned, rubbing a hand across his face roughly and following after him only when he was certain his face looked calm and composed again.

 

\---

 

Later that evening as everyone was sitting down to dinner, Jean was both shocked and not shocked when an owl flew into the Great Hall and landed before him on the table.

The owl wasn’t so shocking. He’d been expecting that. His mother was bound to respond to his letter, after all.

The shocking part was the red envelope clutched in its mouth.

“Oh, no,” was all he could think to say.

Marco immediately snatched the letter out of the owl’s mouth. Jean watched him feed it a bit of food distractedly, feeling like he was having an out of body experience, his soul floating away to hang out somewhere above the table with all of the enchanted candles.

“I don’t want to open it,” he deadpanned.

Marco patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Of course you don’t. That’s only natural. Don’t worry, though. I want to know what it says, so I’ll go with you to open it.”

Jean noticed they had attracted a small crowd of onlookers—onlookers from a variety of houses, at that. Their little section of the Gryffindor table was always something of a novelty in the Great Hall, being that every house was represented during each meal there in some form or another. Tonight even Sasha and Connie had jumped ship from the Hufflepuff table to talk Quidditch with Eren and Armin, who rarely turned down the opportunity to debate strategy or the latest goings-on of the professional season. Particularly ever since Mikasa had been scouted by the Kenmare Kestrals for a possible position on the team as a beater upon her graduation.

That was the reason she would be missing Christmas with Eren this year, Jean thought distractedly. She’d been given an invitation to the team’s winter conditioning camp, and if she declined, it was implied she would likely lose her prospective spot on the team—an option Eren wouldn’t hear of, from what Jean had gleaned of the situation. Even if it meant Eren spent Christmas alone in a cold, drafty castle with no one but dust and house elves for company.

Jean swallowed, remembering why he’d decided on not going home for Christmas and determining to strengthen his resolve to see his choice through.

“Give me the damn howler,” he said resignedly, reaching for it.

“Not until you promise to let me hear what your mother said,” Marco insisted, leaning away from Jean’s reaching grasp.

“I don’t know if I want you to hear it,” Jean said, straining to reach for the letter.

Marco continued to move just out of Jean’s reach. “But I want to hear it.”

“But it’s _my_ letter.”

“It might by yours by I am your best friend and I’m worried about you.”

“Bullshit, you’re just being nosey.”

“I’m being a concerned, if maybe slightly curious, friend.”

“Same thing!” Jean nearly hollered, making a leap for the letter, feeling a rush of triumph when his fingers connected with the red paper as he gave a hard pull.

Except Marco’s grip was equally strong, and the letter ripped in half.

Everyone around them froze, watching with growing horror –and perhaps secondhand embarrassment—as the paper reassembled itself on the table before Jean in a writhing mass of anger.

Jean swallowed, immediately resigning himself to the fact that this moment would probably be one of the worst of his entire young life.

“ _JEAN LUC ANTIONE KIRSCHTEIN!_ ” his mother’s heavily French accent rang out across the Great Hall, stopping any and all conversation. “ _HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO YOUR MAMAN!_ ”

Jean had a brief, fleeting wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“I HAVE SLAVED AWAY AT THIS HOUSE FOR WEEKS TO GIVE YOU A CLEAN HOME TO COME BACK TO. I HAVE SPENT HOURS KNITTING YOU A NEW CHRISTMAS SWEATER, YOUR FATHER HAS REPAIRED THE HOLE YOU MADE IN THE WALL LAST SUMMER, I HAVE DONE HOURS WORTH OF YOUR LAUNDRY, AND I HAVE INVITED THE _WHOLE FAMILY_ TO OUR HOUSE FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER.”

Jean was pretty sure he was dead. Though he was silently grateful his father had fixed the hole he’d managed to blast through the wall in a fit of rage the summer before. A rage that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had received a letter from one Eren Jaeger moments prior to its destruction, wherein nothing was contained on the paper but an enchanted drawing of an incredibly realistic spider that was spelled to look like it was jumping off the page at the viewer above the words, “Get rekt, horseface.”

Jean had promptly thrown it at the wall after screaming like a small child and set it aflame.

Much like he wished he could do to himself currently.

“AND NOW YOU WANT ME TO TELL THE ENTIRE FAMILY THAT MY SON, MY ONLY SON, WILL NOT BE IN ATTENDANCE FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER _IN MY OWN HOME_ BECAUSE HE HAS DECIDED TO _STAY AT SCHOOL AND STUDY?_ THAT IS A LIE IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE, JEANBO, AND I _WILL_ FIND OUT WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE UP TO, MARK MY WORDS. IF YOU DON’T WRITE ME AN EXPLANATION BY _THIS VERY EVENING_ YOU CAN EXPECT ANOTHER HOWLER BRIGHT AND EARLY TOMORROW MORNING!”

The letter adjusted itself, the sound of a throat clearing coming through. “And do give my love to Marco, he’s such a sweet boy.”

The letter then tore itself into shreds, dropping listlessly onto Jean’s abandoned plate.

Jean’s swallow was almost painfully loud in the ringing silence that followed. No one seemed to know what to say, and Jean wasn’t sure how to move or even _breathe_ , really. He just starred uncomprehendingly at the pile of shredded paper before him, hoping time would stop and he would never have to face this level of embarrassment again in his life.

“I am so, so sorry, Jean,” Marco whispered into the quiet eventually, eyes wide with sincerity as his hand came up as if to touch Jean’s shoulder before flinching back uncertainly.

“S’fine,” Jean managed hollowly, swallowing thickly, because he was _not_ going to start crying in the Great Hall from embarrassment right now, no sir.

Jean saw movement across the table from him and looked up to find Eren gaping at him open-mouthed.

Jean found himself unable to do anything other than stare at those wide emerald eyes as they searched his face and focusing on trying not to reacquaint himself with everything he’d just eaten for dinner, stomach clenching painfully.

“You’re staying,” Eren mumbled, eyes unreadable.

Jean felt his head nodding without his consent.

Eren looked like he wanted to say something else, and Jean was suddenly so terrified by what that might be that he found himself leaping up from the table and storming out of the hall in record time, Marco belatedly chasing after his hurried footsteps.

“Jean—“ Marco tried, rounding a corner and following him towards the stairs.

“Not now, Marco.”

“But—“

“I want to be alone for a bit,” he said tiredly, turning to give Marco a pleading look.

Marco looked at him a long moment before stepping forward to give Jean a brief but firm hug, which Jean returned.

“I really am sorry,” he said into the fabric of Jean’s robe. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

Jean shook his head, pulling back. “It’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna go… write a letter, I guess.”

Marco flashed him a wan smile. “You really are a good person, you know.”

Jean shook his head before turning towards the stairs. “Nah. More like an idiot, really,” he said over his shoulder as he began to climb.

Marco didn’t argue with him, instead calling after his retreating form, “It’s going to mean a lot to him!”

“I don’t know who you mean,” Jean said disinterestedly, his disembodied words echoing down the corridor.

 

\---

 

Jean went upstairs to the common room, which was blessedly empty around dinner time, and promptly fell in a graceless heap onto the couch in front of the fire.

He proceeded to wallow in self-pity for the next half hour, a skill he had perfected into an art form by this point in his life, conjuring little black paper butterflies and setting them fluttering morosely into the fire.

Eventually, though, he mustered up what little emotional reserves he had left and pulled out some parchment and a quill because he definitely didn’t want a repeat of this evening to occur first thing in the morning.

He stared at the blank white of the paper, letting the crackling of the fire calm him as he tried to decide how best to present his case. He’d originally given some dribble about how he wanted to stay over the break to focus on his studies, which, looking back on it, was a lie Jean was sure most anyone could see through. Jean hadn’t really cared about a majority of his classes his first five years of schooling, and he wasn’t shocked to see his mother was less than willing to accept a complete turn-around out of the blue in his sixth year.

Well, probably best to just be honest at this point, Jean thought. Which was a good plan, generally speaking. The problem was that Jean was rarely good with honesty, particularly where being honest with himself was concerned. He rubbed his forehead absently, feeling a headache coming on.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, finally putting pen to paper and deciding to hell with it, he’d just write whatever came to mind.

_Dear Maman,_

_I’m really, really sorry I upset you so much, but I’m seriously not coming home for Christmas. I have a good reason, though, I really do! Remember that Eren kid who I’m always ~~talking about~~ yelling about? The one I got detention in second year for dueling? And in third year for messing up his potion in class so that it would smell like troll snot? And in fourth year for telling him he was being a prat and so he set a swarm of angry bees at me? I was still not in the wrong about that by the way, but that’s not really the point. _

_See, he’s kind of having a rough situation right now. He’s an orphan, dunno if I told you that before, but his parents have been gone for years now, and he’s muggle-born besides. He usually spends Christmas at his friend Armin’s house with his sister (remember Mikasa, the one with the really pretty hair?), but this year his friend has an intern position with the ministry over the break and his sister has a training camp with the Kenmare Kestrals (she got scouted, can you believe that???) so they can’t be with him for Christmas. That means Eren has nowhere to go over the break and I don’t really feel right leaving him here by himself. I mean, he’s an idiot and I know he’ll just sulk the whole time. So I’m gonna stay here and make sure someone is around to bother him if he gets too mopey. But NOT because we’re really friends or anything, I just don’t feel right about it, and you raised me better than that and whatever, right?_

_So please don’t be mad at me. I love you very much and I really will miss being home, but this is important. I promise I’ll come home for Christmas next year no matter what. Tell dad I said thanks for fixing the wall, and that I’m sorry again for that. Also please don’t send me another howler, either, it sort of opened in the Great Hall and I may not survive if it happens again._

_Oh, and Marco sends his love and says he wishes he could have some of your amazing gingerbread cookies this year, he misses them._

_Love,  
Jeanbo_

Jean squinted at it briefly before stuffing the letter up and sealing it, making an immediate trek to the owlery before he had a chance to reread it or change his mind.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Jean received an owl from his mother as he was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. Thankfully, he’d been so anxiety-ridden that he’d barely slept, and very few others were up at this hour to see his look of sheer relief upon discovering the owl was not in fact carrying another howler. The poor beast was, however, laden down with two rather sizable packages and a note.

He tore the note open, feeling cautiously hopeful.

_Dear Jeanbo,_

_While I am still not pleased to hear you’ll be missing Christmas this year, I can hardly stay mad at you. I’m proud to have raised such a fine, caring young man. I am sure Eren will be grateful for your company, and though I have often heard you protest to the contrary, I know you’ll also enjoy his. But NO MISCHIEF, do you hear me? If I get a call from the school one more time I will never make you another homemade treacle tart again._

Jean paused here to swallow nervously. He did love his mother’s treacle tart very much. He wasn’t so sure the school would never call her again over his antics, though.

_There are two packages attached to this. The red one is your Christmas present. The blue one is a box of cookies, as well as your favorite Christmas pajamas, because I know how much you love them. Please give cookies to Marco and tell him I miss him too, and that he’ll have to visit you over the summer if he wants more!_

_We love you, Jeanbo. Be a good boy.  
Maman_

Jean groaned, opening the blue box to find that she had indeed sent him his mistletoe pajamas. He flushed, quickly extracting the cookies before slamming the lid on the box again and standing to make a beeline for Gryffindor tower. He would just have to hide them until it was safe to smuggle them back home.

He found himself whistling pleasantly as he greeted the Fat Lady’s portrait, cheerfully shouting the password as he walked into the empty common room.

If nothing else, the comfort that he wouldn’t be receiving another howler was something to celebrate.

 

\---

 

The rest of the week seemed to pass by in a blur, which was no real surprise considering how many tests and practical exams were scheduled right before the start of the holidays. Jean spent most of that time stressed to the max, barely sleeping when he wasn’t reviewing for exams with Marco and Armin or practicing the practical application of spells with whoever happened to be available.

He pointedly ignored Eren the entire time. He couldn’t tell if Eren was irritated or relieved by that notion, and frankly Jean wasn’t sure how he felt about it, either. But the two of them never seemed to be able to ignore each other for very long, and by the time they arrived for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class on the last day of classes before break officially began, something about their getting paired up to practice shield charms seemed inevitable.

“This bites,” Eren muttered, scowling at nothing in particular as he lined up across from Jean.

“Yeah, well,” Jean bit out, a noticeable lack of heat behind his words. “I’m not exactly thrilled either.”

Eren looked at him a long moment before finally shaking his head, holding up his wand questioningly. “You want to shoot first or shield first?”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. Never, in their entire academic career, had Eren ever offered the option of which position he would take first. Their interactions tended to go more along the lines of one of them declaring they would shoot first, while the other argued that in fact _they_ would be going first, at which point things would escalate until a professor had to intervene.

This was entirely too suspicious. Too nice. Too cordial.

“I dunno, you pick,” Jean eventually answered with a careful shrug.

Eren’s eyes slit themselves into a glare, mirroring Jean’s. “I’m giving you the option this time.”

“And I’m giving _you_ the option back.”

“Yeah, well what if I don’t want to pick?”

This was beginning to feel familiar. “Then I guess we’ll be standing here all day, Jaeger.”

“Bollocks. You’re just trying to be like, nice or something.”

Jean felt his ears turn red. “Yeah, so maybe I am. What of it?”

“Well, you can’t be nice, obviously.”

“And why the hell not?”

Eren looked thrown off, faltering briefly before raising his chin. “Because _I_ was being nice _first._ ”

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “Are you actually twelve?”

Eren’s fist clenched around his wand, his teeth visibly grinding. “You know what? Fine. I’ve changed my mind. I am definitely shooting first.”

“Oh? What happened to being Mr. Nice Guy?” Jean taunted, raising his wand to ready a defensive spell. If there was one thing arguing with Eren had taught him over the years, it was that being braced for a fight was always a good idea.

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me,” Eren shrugged before sending a tripping jinx at Jean’s legs.

Jean cast a shield charm, shaking his head. “Weak, Jaeger.”

“Shut up, Kirschtein,” Eren glowered, heat infusing his voice as he shot a rather powerful bat boogey hex at him.

Jean felt it hit hard against his shield but played it off like it was nothing. “Six years of dueling and that’s seriously the best you’ve got?”

He saw Eren’s posture shift into one of practiced ease, his stance squaring off into something far more serious as he cast a mighty stupefy at Jean’s chest.

But Jean felt no fear, no regret or apprehension, deflecting the spell with a powerful shield charm, his own stance moving to mirror Eren’s. Jean _lived_ for this kind of interaction between them, the sort of fighting where he was completely assured that Eren would hold absolutely nothing back; that if Jean managed to win, he would have really beat Eren at his very best.

Not that Jean won often. He didn’t care about the outcome nearly as much as the rush of adrenaline he was currently experiencing. It was all about the fight, the back and forth, knowing he had pushed Eren to this point and knowing that no one else seemed to be able to bring out this side of Eren in quite the same way.

It felt like it lasted hours, but it was probably only minutes. Still, when Jean and Eren were suddenly jarred out of their concentration by the sound of clapping to find the entire class watching them with varying degrees of shock and awe, their Professor running up to them to say what a fine example of exemplary students they had become, Jean was more surprised to find that Eren was grinning at him.

He was even more surprised to find that he was grinning back.

 

\---

 

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“For fuck sake, Marco, I will be fine. Now go,” Jean said, shoving Marco toward the doors of the train. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Marco gave him a vague pout before Jean gave him another exasperated shove. “I _promise_. I’m seriously gonna be fine.”

“You have to promise to write me and let me know how it’s going, then.”

Jean rolled his eyes.

“ _Promise me_ , Jean, otherwise if I don’t hear from you I’ll worry you’ve killed each other off in a classic fit of childish rage.”

Jean snorted, cracking a smile. “Fine. I’ll write you at least once. Just get on the damn train and have a good Christmas, alright?”

Marco flashed him a smile, nodding. “Ok. Bye, then. Happy Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah. You too.”

And all too quickly the train was pulling away in a mess of shrill mechanical grinding and steam, leaving Jean feeling momentarily bereft and alone with his thoughts as he watched the engine pull out of sight.

Jean had only stayed behind for the holidays once before, in his third year. Mostly just to see what it was like.

It hadn’t been fun.

He turned away from his memories to find a small handful of other students also standing on the platform, feeling himself stiffen when he realized one of them was Eren.

_Nope. Not gonna say anything. Not a damn word._

So of course Eren looked up at him as though he’d called his name, their eyes meeting instantly.

Jean huffed, looking away before starting the trek back up to the castle alone, determined not to spare Eren any mind until tomorrow at the very earliest. He walked until he found an empty cart that was presumably hooked up to a thestral, though Jean couldn’t see it. He clambered up into the cart, waiting for it to begin taking him back to the castle.

Thestrals were weird. Kind of creepy. Jean had seen drawings, before. He wasn’t entirely sure they were even real, or that they looked the way the drawing had depicted them.

Curiosity began to eat at him after a moment, and he found himself glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He gingerly moved to the seat on the cart closest to the reigns, feeling awkward but also a bit reckless as he reached forward to touch what he wasn’t sure was even there.

He jumped slightly when his hand made contact with something soft, cool to the touch but not quite cold, and he found himself stroking seemingly nothing, though his hand felt soft fine hair beneath his fingers. The body beneath his hand moved, and Jean felt the cart shift slightly as the creature seemingly readjusted itself.

A smile broke out on Jean’s face, and he reached further forward to give the creature a pat that was a little more firm, hearing a strange sound in response that sounded almost pleased.

“They prefer to be touched near the base of their wings, you know,” said a voice from behind Jean. He pulled his hand back as if burned, whipping around to find Eren standing not too far away from the cart, looking at him curiously.

Jean’s immediate response to being caught in a vulnerable moment was of course to lash out.

“How would you know what they like? What are you, some kind of Care of Magical Creatures expert?” he spat, watching as Eren crept forward, coming up near the front of the cart and reaching out a hand, stroking at the empty air.

“I help Professor Hanji take care of them sometimes,” Eren said evenly, wringing another pleased sound out of the creature.

Jean felt at a loss for what to say, finding himself speaking without conscious thought as he asked, “How? I mean, you can’t even see them unless you’ve—I mean, unless—“

Eren turned to level him with a look that was far too lacking in heat for Jean’s liking. His eyes seemed curiously empty as he finished Jean’s words for him. “Unless I’ve seen someone die?”

Jean nodded, feeling completely out of his comfort zone. This wasn’t a conversation he ever imagined he’d be having with Eren. He wasn’t even sure how to _have_ this kind of conversation with Eren.

Their interactions were strictly of the argumentative sort. This was verging dangerously into territory that left Jean feeling vulnerable somehow.

“I saw my parents die. Well, my mom at least,” he said simply, like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just dumped a huge fucking emotional _thing_ in Jean’s lap like he was supposed to know what to do with it.

“Why are you telling me this?” Jean eventually managed to ask in a strangled voice, feeling too frustrated and confused and strangely raw to try and play some kind of game.

“I don’t know,” Eren said, voice still even and calm as he turned to face Jean fully. “Why are you staying here for Christmas?”

They looked at each other for a long time, neither willing to give any more than they’d already given. Jean felt like one wrong move could possibly mess this up, and he wasn’t even sure what _this_ was.

After a moment when he realized he was shivering and that the cart _still_ wasn’t moving and neither was Eren, he finally sighed, rolling his eyes and patting the wooden seat beside him. “Well, come on then. Get in.”

Eren’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, clearly thrown off guard. “Uh,” was all he seemed to be able to say.

“Look, I’m freezing my arse off out here, so if you’d like to continue having a conversation, I’m going to need you to get into this damn cart so we can get back inside.”

Eren seemed like he was half convinced Jean was playing some kind of trick on him.

“For fucks sake, just come sit down and –I don’t know—tell me more about thestrals or something,” Jean huffed, crossing his arms irritably.

“You want me to come sit with you,” Eren said slowly, disbelief evident in his voice, “and tell you about thestrals?”

“Sure. Why not. I don’t know shit about thestrals. You apparently know all the shit about thestrals. Come sit the hell down so we can _go inside_ and you can talk to me about whatever you want for all I care.”

Still looking like he was expecting a surprise jinx at any moment, Eren cautiously stepped up and into the cart, sitting down with Jean as though braced for a fight.

The cart, blessedly, rumbled to life and they began moving towards the castle. Jean pulled out his wand, casting a warming charm on his robe before putting his wand away. He found Eren watching him intently.

“It was because I wanted to,” Jean finally said, pulling at the beanie on his head and shoving it further down. “To answer your earlier question, I mean. I’m staying because I wanted to.”

Eren looked at him unreadably, eyes dark, before he finally huffed and leaned down in his own seat. “To answer your question, then, um. Same. I told you because I wanted to.”

Jean nodded, feeling like they’d reached some sort of truce. “Good.”

“Yeah. Good.”

“Plus someone had to be here to argue with you. I mean, you’d fall out of practice otherwise.”

Eren snorted, rolling his eyes. “Right.”

“So, uh. Do you have any actual plans for the next two weeks? Because I have no idea what the hell to do and I’m kind of open to, um. Suggestions?”

“Well,” Eren said, mouth quirking in a way that set Jean’s blood rushing, because he knew that look and it often spelled out his favorite kinds of trouble. “There’s always quidditch. Unless you’re scared I’ll beat you again, that is.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed, mouth splitting into a wry grin. “I will make you eat those words, Jaeger.”

“Just try it.”

Jean snorted before sneezing suddenly. “Ok, I will make you eat those words _after_ I’ve had something hot to eat and drink. Otherwise I’ll just be a flying popsicle at this rate.”

Eren laughed, loudly and abruptly, startling them both.

They looked away from one another, faces red from more than just the cold.

Jean privately thought he might be able to get used to being the cause for Eren’s laughter, memorizing the way his eyes had glinted with mirth moments before for later private consideration, but said nothing further.


	2. Chapter 2

They developed a sort of schedule without ever discussing it. They’d meet up in the mornings for breakfast, then part ways until around lunch time, wherein they’d often end up playing a round or two of Wizards Chess or Exploding Snap. After nursing their wounds and damaged pride, they’d generally head out for a rousing game of some form of quidditch practice, often with one of them playing goal keep while the other attempted to score on the other. They both had been chasers on the team since third year, and while their rivalry was renowned throughout the school, so was their unmatched teamwork and raw enthusiasm for the game. Occasionally they’d break out a snitch and compete to see who could catch it first, but being that both of them were rather terrible seekers, it usually ended up taking hours to declare a winner. After quidditch was dinner, and then the two of them would discuss about some topic or another, often wandering the castle or the grounds until they ended up in the common room.

Which wasn’t to say they didn’t argue. They spent most of their time together arguing, if Jean was being honest. It was just that the arguing had somehow moved away from the feeling that things were personal. Now when they bickered, something about it almost felt fond, and Jean found the sensation fun and even welcome.

No, the real problem now was sleeping.

Sharing a dorm with a handful of other boys had never bothered Jean much. Sharing a dorm with only himself and Eren as its current occupants was another ballgame entirely, and often ended up with Jean getting little to no sleep at all, hyper-aware of Eren in the bed across the room, of the sounds of his breathing and sometimes his snores, of the soft little murmurs he sometimes made in his sleep while dreaming.

It also made Jean acutely aware that he didn’t just find Eren sometimes weirdly attractive anymore. He now found him weirdly attractive _almost all of the time_ , and sometimes not even weirdly. Sometimes Eren was just attractive—so much so that it would occasionally knock the breath out of Jean while they were practicing quidditch drills if Eren laughed with excessive delight when Jean nearly fell of his broom, or when Eren argued aggressively that thestrals didn’t deserve to be considered dangerous by the Ministry of Magic because they were actually quite gentle creatures, firelight catching in his too-bright eyes as they sipped coco before bed.

Jean had always found Eren interesting throughout their years of shared dorm use, but with the buffer of several other boys around, Jean had never really given it too much thought or analysis.

Now it seemed to be all Jean could think about.

Perhaps most concerning was that Jean was quickly finding it hard to dislike nearly anything about Eren. In fact, much to his frustration, he found himself rapidly becoming fond of habits that had previously left him feeling irritated.

In short, Jean had no idea what was going on, but he had a strong suspicion that he was probably in trouble.

He wasn’t sure who to talk to about this new development, though, being that everyone was gone for the holidays. Jean literally knew no one left at school besides Eren; there were a handful of Hufflepuff first years and two sixth years, a Ravenclaw third year and fourth year who seemed determined to read for the entirety of the holiday, three Slytherin girls who couldn’t seem to bear to be separated for any length of time and a gaggle of boys who seemed to do nothing but follow the girls around, and not a single other Gryffindor besides a first year girl who never seemed to be around.

That left only one solution in Jean’s mind.

Time to write Marco a letter.

An hour later, Eren came into the Great Hall for lunch to find Jean hunched over an incredibly long length of parchment, scribbling furiously with a quill, eyes half-crazed.

“What the hell are you writing?” Eren asked curiously without any bite, peering over Jean’s shoulder to get a look at the letter.

Jean abruptly leaned forward, covering the parchment and smearing some of the ink as he shooed Eren several steps back. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just, uh. A letter.”

“To who?” Eren asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jean scowled, immediately realizing the spin Eren was going to try and put on this. “It’s to Marco. And before you say anything: no, for the last time, Marco and I are not dating. I just, uh. Needed some advice about something.”

Eren’s other eyebrow rose to join the first, curiosity clearly winning out over teasing him. “Advice for what?”

“None of your business,” Jean hissed, rolling the parchment up and stuffing it in his robe.

Eren expression registered genuine hurt for a moment before his face smoothed into one of careful indifference.

Jean felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” Eren interrupted, grabbing a sandwich off the table. “Not like we’re friends or anything anyway,” he said meaningfully before turning abruptly on his heel and marching out of the hall.

Jean groaned, nearly mashing his face into a bowl of soup as he slammed his head down onto the table.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so, so bad.

Belatedly, he pulled the roll of parchment back out of his pocket, determined to write down all of _this_ , too. If there was one thing Marco was good at, it was solving conflict. And being that tomorrow was Christmas Eve, Jean felt like now was probably the worst possible time to be having a fight.

 

\---

 

He received an owl a few hours later just as he was heading down to dinner.

_For once in your life, Jean, just be honest with him. And tell him you’re sorry._

That was it. Hours of writing a lengthy letter and pouring his heart out, and this was the advice he got.

He threw it into the common room fireplace, hoping that if he glowered at it hard enough the value of the advice he’d gotten would decrease somehow. It was good advice, honestly.

He just really, really hated it.

Jean kicked at the leg of a nearby chair before stomping back up to the dorm, finding the room empty. He grabbed his warmest robe, glancing over to find Eren’s was also missing from his open trunk (his trunk was always open; Eren apparently had no secrets whatsoever, Jean thought with no small amount of envy).

He nodded to himself, face set in grim determination as he stuffed a hat over his head, making his way down to the Great Hall.

He had a feeling he knew where Eren was hiding out.

 

\---

 

Upon entering the Great Hall, Jean grabbed a plate, stuffing it full of bread rolls before wrapping a napkin over the top, placing a sticking charm over it to ensure it would stay put. He then cast a warming charm on the napkin, grinning to himself when he felt the plate begin to heat under his hand. He grabbed another plate, stuffing it full of a variety of whatever was on the table that didn’t look it like would slosh around too much before performing the same routine on it as well. When he had two full-to-the-brim plates warming in his hands, he set them both on the table, pulling out his wand with relish.

“Reducio,” he murmured, feeling pleased when both plates shrank down to neatly fit into the palm of his hand.

He stuffed them into his robe pocket, wrapping his scarf firmly around his face before heading outside and away from the cozy cheer of the castle into the dying light of the setting sun.

He made a beeline for Professor Hanji’ cottage, slowing down only long enough to knock on the front door before stepping back, hands tucked into the pockets of his robe as he bounced on his feet impatiently.

A series of thundering footsteps resounded on the other side of the door before it was thrust open in a great whoosh, warm air blasting against the uncovered part of Jean’s face pleasantly.

“Kirschtein, my boy, what can I do for you at this hour?” Hanji boomed, grinning widely.

“Who the fuck is that,” Jean heard a voice drone from inside. Jean immediately recognized it as Professor Ackerman’s, the Potion’s Master.

“One of our _favorite_ students!” Hanji sang, turning slightly to direct their words at the man and thus giving Jean a better look into their home.

Everything was an absolute mess except one corner of the cottage—a corner which Professor Ackerman was currently occupying, a large flask in his hand. Jean noted that his eyes seemed droopier than usual, less sharp somehow.

He also saw that he was listing rather dangerously to one side.

“Oh, uh. Hello, Professor Ackerman,” Jean ventured.

“It’s Levi. I’m too sloshed for formality right now, kid.”

“Are you two… drinking?” Jean asked, trying not to sound too amused.

“Ah, my boy, good eye, good eye!” Hanji said, reaching forward to clap Jean warmly on the shoulder. “Just enjoying the holidays a little. Letting off some steam and all that.”

“Children are a nightmare,” Levi was murmuring, almost to himself. “I hate children.”

“You do not. You love children, you’re a teacher and you’re always going on about how impressed you are by them,” Hanji countered, grinning wolfishly.

“Don’t care. Still hate ‘em.”

Hanji snorted, gazing at Levi fondly for a moment before seeming to remember Jean’s existence. “Ah, what was it you wanted again?”

“Oh, right,” Jean said, glancing around. “I don’t, uh, suppose you might know where Eren Jaeger likes to, er. Hang around this time of day?”

“Tch,” Levi spat into his glass, taking a large swig. “ _Hang around_ my arse. Mope around is more like it.”

“Levi, be nice,” Hanji chided.

“I’m not nice,” Levi grumbled morosely. Jean tried not to laugh at how dramatic he sounded. “But he _is_ always moping. Always sad. Kid deserves better,” he finished quietly, taking another drink.

Hanji nodded sadly, turning back to Jean. “He likes to mope around by the lake sometimes. Likes the giant squid. Otherwise he’s probably in the forest a little ways, caring for the thestrals.”

“He’s at the lake. Saw him earlier. Moping,” Levi insisted, head coming to lie on the table. “This had better be clean, Hanji.”

“Just for you, Levi.”

“Damn right,” he nearly whispered before his eyes suddenly opened, pinning Jean with a sharp stare. “Kirschtein.”

“Er, yes?” Jean asked, shifting nervously and wanting very much to be on his way already.

“You.”

“Um.”

“Your potions practical.”

“Oh. Uh.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Levi mumbled, nodding before closing his eyes and resting his head more comfortably on the table.

“I think it’s time I get him to bed now,” Hanji laughed quietly. “On your way, then. And be careful. Don’t let me catch you out on the grounds after dark.”

“Right,” Jean nodded, taking a step back and ignoring the fact that it was very clearly already after hours. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Any time, my boy, any time,” Hanji called before shutting the door with a great slam. Jean could hear Levi inside, cursing about the noise. He smiled to himself before taking a few steps out onto the grass to survey the area.

He had a certain moping idiot to find.

 

\---

 

He eventually found him sitting beside the lake under a great arching willow tree, arms wrapped petulantly around his legs as he stared listlessly out towards the water.

Moping was definitely a good way to describe it, Jean thought.

He walked as quietly as possible up to the tree, coming to flop down heavily next to Eren, who startled briefly before hunching up again, this time staring out over the water as if he hoped it might catch fire.

_Be a Gryffindor, Jean. Do the thing. Say the damned stuff._

“I’m sorry,” Jean blurted immediately for lack of anything else intelligent to say.

Eren whipped his head around to him, eyes wide.

It occurred to Jean in that moment that for all the times they’d ever fought, neither of them had ever apologized to the other. Jean tried to ignore the part of his brain that insisted this made what he was about to do _even more significant and weird_ and barreled onward anyway.

“I said a rude thing and I didn’t even mean it this time,” Jean began, sighing and leaning back on his arms, directing his gaze out toward the lake; he couldn’t quite get himself to meet Eren’s eyes if he was going to be spouting a bunch of emotional truths and nonsense. “I am having a personal problem, and I didn’t want to share it with you because I was worried it would make you uncomfortable. I’ve known Marco a lot longer, hence my long ranting letter. It’s not because I’m, like, scared to ask you for advice or something though. This is just one thing where I sort of… can’t. But you are my, um. Friend. So like, don’t say that shit again, or next time I will hit you.”

He reached an arm up to rub at his nose, which conveniently blocked the view of most of his face as he tried to stave off the feeling of embarrassment that came with this kind of openness and honesty and _feelings_.

It didn’t really help. Like, at all. Jean still felt super, super embarrassed and weirdly nervous for some reason.

He reached into his pocket suddenly, pulling out the nearly-forgotten two small plates before pointing his wand at them. “Engorgio,” he muttered, feeling pleased when he found they still felt warm to the touch.

“I, uh. Brought you dinner,” Jean ventured awkwardly, handing one of the plates to Eren, who took it wordlessly. Jean still couldn’t muster up the courage to look at him. “The other is for the, uh. Giant squid. I had a feeling you might be out here somewhere feeding animals or something, so. More to share.”

Everything felt incredibly tense for what felt like actual years, but must have only been a minute or two. Jean’s heart pounded alarmingly in his chest as he waited for some kind of response. He was almost ready to stand up and head back inside, assuming Eren must not be ready to forgive him that easily or something when suddenly Eren made a funny sound.

Jean looked over to find him doubled up, tears leaking from his eyes, a strange wheezing sound emanating from him. His mind immediately panicked, thinking he had somehow done something _even worse_ to set Eren off into a downward spiral.

Then he suddenly realized Eren was laughing.

“You _fucking asshole_ ,” Jean hissed, shoving at his shoulder and nearly sending Eren toppling over, which only served to make him laugh harder. “I just said a lot of like, real deep stuff there, ok? Laughing is not cool. _You_ are not cool, oh my god. Why am I even talking to you.”

Eren continued to wheeze quietly for another minute, wiping tears from his eyes that Jean was not convinced were due entirely to mirth, before he reached out to tentatively touch Jean’s shoulder. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Yeah, well,” Jean grumbled, face flushing. He tried to ignore the feeling of Eren’s hand on his shoulder, as well as the part of him that wished it would never go away.

Eren grabbed a roll off the plate, handing it to Jean before grabbing another for himself and tossing it out into the water. Jean watched, intrigued, as a sizable wave swooped over the water, the roll disappearing in the movement.

Eren gestured at the water and Jean took the hint, chucking his roll out as well and watching as another wave came along to swallow it up in a great and silent swooping wave.

“You’re mine, too,” Eren suddenly blurted after a few minutes of back and forth plate passing and roll tossing. “Friend, I mean.”

Jean nodded, feeling a small smile creep onto his face. “Yeah. I know.”

“Wow, you could be just a _little_ more appreciative here. I’m saying an emotional thing right now. About you, no less.”

“Ok, _my bad_ , forgive me for not being real great at the feelings-sharing shit here, Super Number One Friend Guy,” Jean said, shoving Eren again before standing up, and definitely not letting his hand linger just a second too long.

“Whoa, Jean, that’s a little much. I don’t know if I’m ready for that level of, like, friendship commitment or whatever. Super Number One Friend Guy sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“That’s what I’m best at though,” Eren said smugly.

“I know,” Jean agreed, equally smug.

“You’re not supposed to agree with that. Agreeing with that is not something a friend would do.”

“Agreeing with that is _exactly_ what a friend would do,” Jean countered, offering a hand to Eren, who was still seated on the ground. “Now get your arse up and let’s go back into the castle, it’s cold as hell out here and you’re going to make us catch our deaths.”

Eren accepted his hand, warmth flooding Jean’s grasp even through his gloves as he pulled him up. Jean’s instinct was to hold on tighter and not let go once Eren had gained his balance.

Which was precisely why Jean did the exact opposite, dropping his hand immediately and turning toward the castle.

They’d just established they were friends. Jean didn’t want to fuck up the only good thing he’d had going for him since he managed to somehow make a friend out of Marco their first year.

“Isn’t hell supposed to be hot, though?” Eren asked thoughtfully as they started on the path back.

It took Jean a moment to realize what Eren was getting at, but once he did, Jean groaned. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I won’t still punch you, Eren.”

Eren laughed, and Jean felt his face split into a smile at the sound.

It was something he was growing more and more fond of, and while that terrified him, it also left him feeling pleasantly warm despite the chill in the air.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Jean woke with a panicked start.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he said to the canopy of his bed, eyes wide and startled because _holy shit,_ tomorrow was Christmas.

Tomorrow was Christmas and he didn’t even have a present to give to Eren. Eren, who was his friend now. Eren, who of course deserved a present if he was his _friend,_ what the fuck, how had he not considered this sooner.

Jean grabbed at his hair, tugging at it before smushing his hands across his face. “I am so screwed.”

“I don’t know, mate, being that you’re alone in that bed and all,” Eren’s muffled voice said from across the room.

Jean darted up in bed, whipping open the curtains to find Eren pulling a shirt over his head, back blessedly towards Jean, allowing Jean to look unabashedly at the long line of his back, warm skin cast in the morning light as it came in through the tower window. Jean knew Eren was attractive, sure, but he was pretty certain he had never had a chance to appreciate the muscles on his back or the swell of his arse in his low-slung pants with the clarity he was currently experiencing.

He blinked slowly when he realized the shirt had been pulled down for several seconds now and he was still staring. He raised his gaze cautiously to find Eren shooting him a strange look.

Jean opened his mouth to say something useful but all that came out was a weird squeaking noise.

The corner of Eren’s mouth quirked into a smirk. “You doing ok there, Jeanbo?”

Jean shook his head, flopping down onto his bed again and closing his bed curtains with a snap. “No. Still asleep. Come back later.”

Eren snorted, grabbing his wand off his bed before heading toward the door. “Ok. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast in a bit. I, uh. Have something I’ve got to take care of first.”

Jean hummed noncommittally, waving toward the door and listening patiently for the sound of Eren’s foodsteps fading down the stairwell before he lept out of bed, hands fisted in his hair again.

“Shit, _shit,_ what am I gonna _do_?”

 

\---

 

Nothing, as it turned out. Jean spent his entire morning running around and thinking of ideas to no avail. He tried to wheedle Eren for ideas over breakfast but didn’t want to be too obvious about it, so he ended up abandoning that plan pretty quickly. He even used his fool-proof method for generating good ideas, which was a hot shower and lots of mumbling.

Still, nothing.

Jean was on his way down to lunch when he ran into Eren coming from the opposite end of the castle, whistling to himself pleasantly, a bounce to his step that made Jean instantly suspicious of… something. He wasn’t quite sure what.

“Where have you been?” he asked curiously, gesturing for Eren to go ahead of him into the Great Hall.

“Oh, you know,” Eren said vaguely. “Just doing stuff.”

Jean eyed him. “Stuff.”

“Yep,” Eren said, emphasizing the word with a loud pop at the end before grinning mischievously. Jean found that both unfairly attractive but also slightly unnerving.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, sitting down at one of the tables and beginning to heap food onto his plate. “I’m too hungry for your bullshit right now anyway.”

Eren hummed, saying nothing as he dug into a piece of pie. Jean sneered at his choice of food. Eren rolled his eyes, taking another large bite.

He stuck his tongue out covered in half-chewed food when Jean still hadn’t looked away after a moment.

Jean grimaced before looking down to scowl at his own plate, taking a vicious bite of some vegetables and feeling defeated.

Eren was too distracting today. It really wasn’t fair.

Jean took another bite of a steamed carrot before choking and breaking into a coughing fit.

Eren cackled.

“Not funny,” Jean wheezed through tears.

Eren continued to laugh. “I’d never miss a chance to laugh at you. It’s basically the highlight of my day.”

It was as if the heavens opened up. Jean felt inspiration strike him like a bolt of thunder.

“Oh my god,” he said, voice still hoarse from trying to breathe vegetables. “That’s it.”

“Uh. What’s it?” Eren asked, tilting his head, eyebrows drawing together in obvious confusion. Jean couldn’t exactly fault him.

“Nothing. I just—I had a problem and I have now fixed it. I think,” Jean said, grinning to himself.

Eren stared at him, eyes wide. Jean was so thrilled to have finally come up with some sort of solution to his problem that he barely noticed. Once he finally did glance up it was to find Eren looking at him as though he’d just seen something especially rare, his cheeks red.

“What? Do I have food on my face or something?” Jean asked, wiping around his mouth.

Eren shook his head, looking back down at his plate. “Ah, no. You’re fine. It’s—everything’s fine.”

Jean wasn’t convinced but he was feeling charitable and so he decided to let it go. “You up for another game of Exploding Snap after this? I mean, I know I’m ahead of you with wins right now and all, so if you’re too ashamed to play anymore I would definitely understand.”

Eren threw a piece of bread at him. “You’re on, but only on the condition that you don’t cry when you lose.”

“Deal. But loser has to wash the other’s Quidditch gear for the rest of the season.”

“You’re just jealous that I’ve started as center chaser all season.”

“Why would I be jealous? I’m right side chaser, you idiot. Everyone knows right side is the best side anyway.”

“Wow, big talk there from the guy who has half the scoring record I do.”

“Whatever,” Jean said, pushing away his plate to pull out a deck of cards. “I’m still gonna beat your arse at Exploding Snap.”

An hour later saw Eren literally rolling on the floor of the Great Hall in silent laughter. Jean fumed, sipping at his pumpkin juice.

“Shut _up_ , Jaeger.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Eren giggled from somewhere out of Jean’s vision. Jean tried to focus on the beauty of the Christmas trees decorating the hall in an effort to not jump up and attempt to hit Eren, or worse, kiss him.

The thought was so unexpected that Jean suddenly had to fight off the urge to slam his own head down onto the table.

Eren slowly clambered back up off the floor, shoulder still shaking with silent laughter. “Your face is just pricelss. I can’t help it.”

Jean tried to stop himself from focusing too much on the words “your face is priceless” because he _knew_ that wasn’t what Eren meant, and yet his brain seemed determined to go there. He groaned, standing. “I need to let off some steam. I’m going to the Quidditch pitch, you can either join me or sit here cackling like a herd of goddamn doxies all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, you’re just so—it’s hilarious,” Eren said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, yeah. There’s plenty more where that came from, I’m sure. Now are you coming or what?”

Eren stood up, grinning. “Can’t miss another opportunity to knock you down a peg.”

“I’m sure,” Jean grumbled, heading for the pitch as Eren followed after him and trying very, very hard not to think of Eren’s mouth even once.

He failed. Several times.

 

\---

 

They played for hours, much of the time passed lazily tossing the ball back and forth while they discussed strategy against the other houses, their favorite pro players, and critiqued each other’s form. Jean found himself having such a good time that he was honestly shocked when Eren suggested they head back inside to wash up for dinner; he hadn’t noticed how late the day had gotten.

They parted ways at the entrance to the castle, Eren mumbling some excuse about needing to see about something before he’d meet Jean for dinner and forcing Jean to promise to wait for him in the dorm room before they headed down.

Jean agreed distractedly, heading up toward Gryffindor tower, thoughts racing because he now knew what he was getting for Eren but wasn’t sure when to present it to him and damn it all, Christmas and friends were too much work.

When Jean got up to the dorms it was to find a package on his bed. Upon further investigation, it appeared to be from his mother. Inside was Jean’s Christmas sweater, a stylish thing in deep blue with gold lettering which read “Gryffindor” along the front, the words “chaser” and his team number on the back in equally precise and attractive style.

His mother was always amazing at this sort of thing, Jean thought with pride.

Under the shirt was a huge plate of gingerbread cookies. A note on top of them read, “ _Merry Christmas, Jeanbo. Please share with Eren and wish him a Happy Christmas from us.”_

Jean stubbornly fought down the childish urge to not share any of his mother’s cookies with anyone, setting the plate firmly on Eren’s trunk in defiance of his own selfishness. His mother’s cookies were really, really good.

He turned back to his own trunk, frowning.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” he mumbled to himself, steeling his resolve before digging around to the bottom of his trunk and pulling out his favorite mistletoe-covered Christmas pajamas.

They were a ridiculous construction straight out of a fashion nightmare. It was a matching shirt and pants that were a horrific color of puke green, obnoxious red lettering that read “Happy Christmas!” patterned randomly all over them, and the entirety of any remaining blank space covered in tiny dancing bits of _smiling_ mistletoe.

They were children’s pajamas. Jean had received them for Christmas when he was 11. He had noticed that they suspiciously seemed to grow bigger every year, continuing to fit him just so; he suspected his mother had something to do with it, but Jean was too prideful to bring it up, and he knew it made his mother happy to see him wearing them on Christmas morning anyway. Not to mention they were rather comfortable.

Marco had seen a photo of Jean wearing them while visiting one summer and had more or less refused to let Jean live it down ever since.

Sighing and figuring he’d best do this now rather than later, Jean quickly stripped down, donning the frightful things before quickly wrapping himself in a warm winter robe. He walked over to the floor-length mirror that sat in one corner of the dorm, checking to make sure no part of the pajamas were visible.

Perfect. Now he just had to decide when it was best to, uh. Reveal himself.

Jean flushed, feeling like this was suddenly a lot more inappropriate than he had first imagined. He had a sudden, vivid image of disrobing in front of a very interested Eren, his mind starting to race in directions Jean had become increasingly familiar and frustrated with in recent weeks.

“Are you ready for dinner yet?” Eren asked, suddenly rounding the stairs and startling Jean so badly he was convinced his heart had momentarily stopped.

“What, no—I mean, yes. Yeah. Totally ready,” he stammered, trying not to look suspicious and looking exceedingly guilty as a result.

Eren paused in the doorway, eyeing him. “Why are you dressed in your winter robe? We’re not going outside, you know.”

Jean ran a hand through his hair in an effort to look smooth. “I know that, dumbass. I’m just cold. Just. Keepin warm and whatever. It _is_ winter, you know.”

Eren stared at him, clearly not buying it.

“Just let me live my life, damn,” Jean huffed, stomping back toward his bed to grab his wand before neatly tucking it up his sleeve. He turned to find Eren shucking off his quidditch gear. “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Oh. Um,” Eren said, turning to give him a slightly panicked look before whipping his shirt off, throwing a clean one on in a rush. “So I kind of. Uh. W-well I sort of did. A thing. For, uh. You. As a Christmas gift, I mean.”

Jean felt something in the region of his chest growing warm, his eyes blowing wide.

“I mean if you don’t want to it’s totally cool and I get it, I just didn’t know what else to do for you and since we’re—since we’re friends, I thought I probably should, you know. Do something,” Eren finished lamely.

“You got me a present?” Jean asked slowly, trying not to sound too pleased and failing entirely.

Eren scowled, walking over toward the stairs leading down out of the dorm room. “Well, kind of. Not exactly. Just—just follow me, ok?”

Jean nodded, following Eren on autopilot and feeling slightly dizzy in the best way.

When they reached the common room Eren stopped short, gesturing toward a table near the fireplace.

A table that didn’t normally exist in the common room, and which was covered in an adorable red table cloth patterned in tiny white snowflakes.

That wasn’t the impressive part, though. The impressive part was the food strewn all over it.

“What the fuck,” was all Jean could say, eyes wide in the amber light of the fire, mouth hanging open.

“Ok, so don’t freak out or whatever but like, I sent Marco an owl and I asked him what some of your favorite foods were.”

Jean was pretty sure that if his eyes widened any further he was going to have to be taken to see the Head Nurse to have them placed back in his skull.

“He said you really liked mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie and that you were a big fan of chicken but not so much pork and—and a bunch of other things, so I asked the house elves if they’d help me make you something you liked,” Eren finished, voice nearly a whisper by the end.

“Gingerbread cookies,” Jean mumbled, brain still in shock. When Eren shot him a quizzical look, Jean cleared his throat, elaborating. “My mom sent a bunch of her homemade gingerbread cookies and I set them by your stuff upstairs.”

“Oh. Uh,” Eren murmured clearly confused.

Jean knew he was fucking this up somehow but legitimately wasn’t sure how to respond to something so thought-out and fucking _nice,_ especially when this looked very much like a date sort of thing and he was nearly positive it _wasn’t_ a date sort of thing so he didn’t know _how the hell to respond to this_ without doing something he’d regret.

“Thank you,” he blurted, taking a step closer to Eren. “This is. Like. The nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

Eren flushed, and Jean found it so pretty that he nearly panicked.

“But since you’re usually about as nice as a blast-ended skrewt I guess the bar is set kind of low,” he added, giving Eren a shove that was way more gentle than he meant for it to be.

Eren’s eyebrows furrowed but his mouth split into a grin. He shoved Jean back before wandering towards the table, sitting down heavily in front of the fire.

Jean neared the table with an air of reverence, his mind doing its best to memorize this moment because not only was it one of the nicest things Eren had ever done for him, it was one of the nicest things _anyone_ had ever done for him in his entire life, and he wasn’t keen on forgetting it anytime soon.

“Are you sure you still want to wear that? I mean, we are right in front of the fire,” Eren asked, gesturing to Jean’s thick winter robe.

Oh.

“Uh,” Jean said eloquently.

Well, now was probably as good a time as any.

“So, I may have also gotten you a sort of… gift,” Jean said awkwardly, fiddling with the clasp on his robe nervously. “I couldn’t think of anything to get you and then I realized that the best thing I could probably give you was this.”

He undid the clasp, swinging the robe off with a flourish and draping it over the back of a nearby couch before turning to give Eren his full attention.

Eren’s face was blank at first before his lips pursed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his face turning red, and Jean suddenly realized he was trying not to laugh.

“Well go ahead and laugh then, that was kind of the whole point,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

Eren promptly burst into loud guffaws of laughter, head nearly landing in a plate of food as he doubled over. “W-what are you _wearing_ , oh my _god_ ,” he finally managed to wheeze, looking up at Jean with a disbelieving grin.

“It is the most embarrassing outfit I own,” Jean admitted. “My mother got it for me my first Christmas here at Hogwarts and it has mysteriously continued to fit me ever since.”

Eren snorted loudly, breaking into another round of giggles.

“I know it’s not as cool as what you got me, but I figured the best thing I could give you was something personal. So, I thought I’d give you my pride. Or whatever,” Jean said, fidgeting.

Eren abruptly stopped laughing, head snapping up to look at Jean in shock.

“Just figured it’d be memorable, if nothing else,” Jean mumbled, not meeting Eren’s eyes as he sat down gingerly at the table, scratching one of his arms distractedly and glancing over the meal before them.

When Eren still hadn’t said anything after almost a full minute, Jean finally glanced up awkwardly from under the fringe of his hair to find Eren looking at him in a way he couldn’t put a name to. It was certainly not a way he’d ever seen Eren look at him before. It made him feel too self-aware, uncomfortable in his own skin—a feeling of being too warm and yet also feeling strangely bereft.

Something in the air seemed to change. Jean’s mind raced, trying to find a reason. He supposed that when all they had standing between them for so many years was pride, and Jean willingly gave that up in exchange for –for what, friendship?—that it did sort of change the game between them.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to make things weird.

“Sorry if that was weird. I’m shit at giving gifts, so—“ Jean started, only for Eren to interrupt him by kicking him sharply under the table. “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Don’t you dare apologize for giving me—for giving me such a—“ Eren broke off, seemingly unable to continue. Jean abruptly realized Eren’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Oh my god, don’t you dare cry, I don’t know how to handle that,” Jean said in mild horror.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not crying,” Eren sniffled angrily. “It was just really nice of you, ok?”

Jean nodded frantically. “Ok, I definitely get it. Please don’t cry, though, it was supposed to make you laugh.”

“It _did_ ,” Eren insisted wetly, hands covering his face.

Jean’s hands fluttered at his sides helplessly, not knowing what else to do, when he was suddenly struck with an idea.

He grabbed a fork and stuck it exaggeratedly into a piece of pie before taking a large bite, humming appreciatively. “Your gift is still better,” he said through a mouthful of food.

Eren peered over his hands, glaring weakly. “Is not.”

“Is _so_ ,” Jean declared, grabbing a leg of chicken and taking another large bite.

“Your gift made me not-cry.”

“Do you want me to cry over how amazing this food is right now? Because I can do that. I will burst into tears right now.”

Eren rolled his eyes dramatically. Jean noted they were beginning to look less watery by the second. “Yours is still better.”

“False.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this?”

“Why can’t you just admit that your gift was the best gift?”

Eren made a sound of frustration. “I like how we went from arguing that one of us is better than the other to arguing that each of us is better than the other.”

“Still improvement,” Jean said around a glass of pumpkin juice.

Eren’s lips quirked in a smile but he said nothing, digging into his food instead with gusto.

They spent another good hour bickering back and forth until they had managed to nearly clear the entire table of food. They both groaned in pain for a few minutes before Eren finally stood up, stacking the plates neatly on the floor near the hearth.

“Go sit on the couch or something,” he said, shoving Jean out of his chair.

Jean flopped across one of the couches dramatically. “I am dying. Why would you be so cruel to a dying man.”

Eren snorted derisively, pulling out his wand and vanishing the table and chairs.

Jean raised an eyebrow, definitely not impressed.

“What? They were conjured. I’m actually pretty good at conjuring, I’ll have you know,” Eren muttered, flopping down on the other end of the couch Jean was sitting on.

Their legs were dangerously close to touching. Jean felt like that probably shouldn’t have been as big of a deal as it seemed.

They sat there for a while in comfortably awkward silence, letting their stomachs settle and growing steadily sleepier by the warmth of the fire. Jean became so comfortable that he found himself nodding off, head lolling back to rest against the couch.

Eventually he felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched creep through his drowsiness, however. He opened one eye to find Eren looking at him intently.

“Thanks,” Eren said seriously.

Jean blinked both eyes open, confused.

“For staying with me, I mean,” Eren added, face more serious than Jean had perhaps ever seen it.

The directness of his gaze threw Jean off. Made him feel too open, too vulnerable.

He didn’t look way, though.

“Just didn’t seem right,” was all he said instead.

Eren grimaced, but Jean felt like it was an effort to cover up a smile. “I don’t know how to deal with you being all nice now. It’s weird.”

Jean laughed, surprising even himself with the sound. “I don’t know about nice. I’m still the same asshole I’ve always been.”

Eren looked thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip. Jean tried not to stare. “Yeah. I suppose that’s true.”

“Wow, Eren. I thought it was a friend’s job to disagree with statements like that.”

“Uh, pretty sure it was a friend’s job to agree with statements like that in particular.”

Jean grinned, finally looking away.

This was nice. Being friends was a nice thing to be, Jean decided. He hadn’t had too many of those over the years. And sure, he might have some not-strictly-friends feelings for Eren, but he was sure he could get over that in time.

Well. Probably.

Mostly Jean didn’t want to ruin what he had recently come to realize was one of the best things he’d ever had.

He glanced over to find Eren still chewing on his lip, staring at the fire pensively.

Jean frowned. “What? Something wrong?”

Eren’s own eyebrows drew further down to match Jean’s, though he didn’t say anything.

“You can tell me, you know,” Jean said gently. “I mean, if you want. That’s kind of part of the whole being-friends thing.”

Jean wondered if he was sad, to be spending Christmas with Jean and not his sister or Armin. He wondered if Eren was thinking of his parents, and how he missed them. Jean wouldn’t blame him.

Eren glanced at him, and Jean saw a mixture of conflicting emotions in his expression. Something like pain flashed across his face briefly before he finally seemed to decide on something.

“I don’t want to be friends,” he blurted.

Jean’s eyes widened, and he tried not to feel like someone and just punched him in the stomach, but the painful twist in the region of his heart was hard to ignore.

“I mean—no, that’s not. Shit,” Eren hissed, turning to face Jean on the couch. “I mean I don’t want to, uh. _Just_ be friends. With you.”

Jean stared.

Continued to stare, shock evident in his features.

“I mean I might sort of maybe have a—a crush on you. Possibly,” Eren rambled, face turning red in the wake of Jean’s continued silence. “And I figure if this goes badly, then I will just… obliviate you and make a run for it, so.”

“Oh my god, it was a date thing, wasn’t it,” Jean whispered, a growing sense of victory lighting him from the inside out. “You got me food for a Christmas Eve dinner date.”

Eren glared. “That was _not_ what that was, you asshole. I just wanted to…” Eren trailed off, a look of dawning realization crossing his features.

“I’m right, aren’t I.”

“Oh my god.”

“I fucking knew it,” Jean grinned.

“Wait, wait. You still haven’t said anything about—“

“Eren,” Jean interrupted him, and the seriousness of his tone seemed to be enough to make Eren close his mouth. “I have _literally_ had a crush on you for like—I don’t even know how long, to be honest with you, a couple of years at least? Maybe longer.” He paused, hand ruffling through his own hair awkwardly. “Took me a while to figure it out, but. Um. It’s a thing.”

Eren’s green eyes were filled with something that looked dangerously like hope and maybe even genuine affection. Jean felt his heart do a funny twist in his chest that he couldn’t say he entirely disliked.

“You like me,” Eren said slowly.

Jean nodded, cautious, feeling suddenly terrified at the realization that _holy shit,_ yeah, he had actually just admitted that, hadn’t he.

“You’ve liked me for a while.”

Jean nodded again, feeling panic rush through his veins like fire.

Eren finally scooted forward, eyes dreamy and unfocused—

Before he suddenly leaned forward to abrupt punch Jean in the arm, hard.

“You _absolute asshole_ , why the hell didn’t you say something?”

“Ow! Well we weren’t exactly on good terms until recently, now, were we!” Jean hollered, rubbing at his arm.

Eren looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t come up with anything valid to refute that statement.

“I also didn’t think you were exactly _interested_ in me like that, and I really didn’t want to screw up being your friend now that we’ve established that we are, in fact, friends. So I was just going to, like. Deal with it or whatever,” Jean added, sulking.

The weight of that statement seemed reach past Eren’s anger, stalling him briefly.

“Sorry?” Jean added, unsure.

Eren’s face suddenly turned red again. He stared at Jean intently, eyes roving over his figure with something Jean could only identify as wanting.

Jean felt himself warming from the inside out under his gaze.

“Look. Feel free to say no because I will completely respect that, but you are _literally_ wearing dancing mistletoe and it’s really distracting, so, um. Can I kiss you?”

A heavy shot of adrenaline spiked through Jean, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. “Y-you want to—to—“

“Well, yeah. I’ve kind of been wanting to for a while now.”

“Um,” Jean mumbled eloquently, turning to face Eren on the couch also now, their knees bumping. He looked away, face flushing with humiliation.

 _You just gave him your pride as a Christmas gift_ , he told himself sternly, _this shouldn’t be so difficult to admit._

“Ok, just so we’re clear here,” Jean started, faltering. “I have never, like. I mean, I haven’t—.”

He glanced back to find Eren’s face slowly splitting into a smirk.

Jean fought off the urge to punch him in his stupid smug face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before, have you?” Eren asked. His tone implied this was probably the most entertaining thing he had ever heard.

“Of course I have!” Jean crowed before reality crashed back in on him. “I mean. I might have. Once or twice. Maybe.”

“Liar,” Eren simpered gleefully.

Yep. Jean was going to punch him, that stupid smug bastard.

“If you’re going to be a dick about it then I’m not going to let you kiss me,” he grumbled instead, attempting to show some level of self-control.

“I bet I could make you change your mind,” Eren said, voice nearly a purr.

Jean’s brain short-circuited.

He heavily suspected that tone of voice would haunt his dreams for months, if not years, to come.

Eren leaned forward suddenly, eyes glancing towards Jean’s mouth, his tongue peeking out to subconsciously wet his lips.

Jean felt his own mouth mirror the action.

“Is that a yes, then?” Eren prompted.

Jean didn’t feel like he could muster up the courage to speak, but he did manage to nod.

Before he had a chance to think about it too much, Eren’s mouth was suddenly on his own, pressing lightly. It was the most gentle action Jean had ever seen Eren perform, one he honestly hadn’t believed Eren even capable of until this moment. The fact that Eren thought he needed to treat Jean delicately was laughable, but the fact that he _wanted_ to left Jean feeling a sudden rush of affection, because no one had ever treated Jean like he was something to be treasured. It made his chest feel painfully yet pleasantly tight, his breath leaving him in a happy little sigh.

He barely had time to press his lips back against Eren’s own before Eren was moving away, however.

Jean opened his eyes as if in a daze, not even recalling when he’d closed them, only to find Eren looking equally awe-struck by the experience.

“That ok?” he asked, a sweetness to his voice that Jean had never heard before. Had never expected to hear, if he was being honest with himself.

Jean had the fleeting thought that it was a sound he’d likely never tire of hearing, even if he did enjoy Eren’s grumpy bickering just as much.

“Why did you stop?” Jean blurted, finally coming to his sense and glaring. “I mean, yes, it was very ok. Very more than ok, actually, and I was kind of just getting used to it when you suddenly decided to quit.”

He tried not to sound too disappointed by this and failed spectacularly.

Eren’s lips quirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Well, I wanted your first one to be sweet.”

“It _was_ sweet,” Jean insisted, confused.

“Good. Because that took a lot of effort holding back on my part. Just so you know.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Jean said.

“Plus I kind of figured we have, you know. Plenty of time, considering no one will be back for days still,” Eren said, shrugging nonchalantly despite still looking flushed and happy.

Jean’s face heated at the thought, because it suddenly occurred to them that yes, no one would be back for several days yet, but that also meant that he and Eren would still be sharing the same dorm room now. That was a scenario that seemed _entirely_ different than before, given the declarations of liking one another and the whole kissing thing.

“You’re about as red as the Gryffindor coat of arms right now,” Eren observed evenly, clearly amused.

“I am— _overwhelmed_ by your kissing prowess or something, ok, for the love of merlin,” Jean mumbled, shoving at Eren’s face irritably.

Eren laughed, grabbing Jean’s hand from his face and holding it in his own.

Jean had never considered that holding hands would be such a big deal, and yet here his heart was, suddenly booming in his ribcage like it was intent on making an escape, tingles shooting up his arm when Eren rubbed his finger over the skin on his knuckles.

“Holy shit, you’re even _redder_ now, how is that possible,” Eren said, his tone clearly impressed.

Jean squeezed his hand in what was meant to be a painful gesture but somehow just ended up like more of a firm grip than anything else. “Shut it, you kneazle. I’m just kind of. Feeling sort of awkward sharing a dorm with you. Alone. Now that this is a thing and all.”

Eren blinked up at him, eyes wide. “A thing.”

“Yes?”

“Like a you-and-I-are-dating kind of thing?”

“Is there some other thing happening right now?” Jean asked incredulously.

Eren shook his head vehemently. “No, no no, I just was kind of expecting you to be more of a prat about admitting we’re, I don’t know. An item, I guess.”

Jean thought about it briefly. He supposed that seemed reasonable. “Did you particularly _want_ me to be stupid about it?”

“No! I’ve just learned to expect stupid reactions when it comes to you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, I don’t even know how to handle it. Just look at me, I’m nearly swooning.”

Eren snorted, rolling his eyes. “So we _are_ a—a thing, then?”

Jean tried not to stammer with nerves as he said, “Yes. We are a thing.”

“So you’re my… boyfriend,” Eren said quietly, looking like he expected Jean to have a fit about that, too.

“Only if you’re mine, I guess,” Jean said, shrugging and trying not to let on to the fact that it felt like fireworks were going off in his chest.

Eren grinned as though someone had just informed him he’d won the house cup. He leaned forward again abruptly, giving Jean a brief but burning kiss.

Jean’s mind seemed to blank for a moment due to what he assumed was some kind of hormonal rush or something. He blinked at Eren stupidly before remembering his original quest. “Right. So, uh. I am _still_ feeling awkward about the sharing a dorm alone thing.”

“Oh,” Eren said, obviously remembering as well. “Right. Well, what are you worried about, exactly?”

Jean felt embarrassment flood his features. “This may not be immediately obvious to you, given my great wit and charm, but I am pretty inexperienced with this shit.”

Eren nodded encouragingly.

“So I am not exactly thrilled to move quickly or anything.”

Eren nodded, looking a little more confused this time.

“Do you know what I mean?” Jean asked pleadingly.

“Just spit it out, Jean. I’m a wizard, not a mind-reader,” Eren said, his eyebrows creasing.

Jean took a deep, steadying breath before blurting, “I am just kind of not super into the idea of being super physical immediately or whatever.”

“Oh,” Eren said, realization flooding his features. “Right. Uh, I don’t think you need to worry about that too much. I’m not that experienced myself. Beyond the kissing, I mean,” Eren admitted.

“Oh,” Jean sighed, feeling relieved. “Good. Because I was worried you might… I don’t know. Be some kind of sex fiend or whatever and ask me to sleep with you.”

Eren made a derisive sound. “I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

“Says the guy who thought I’d throw a fit over the word ‘boyfriend’ earlier,” Jean pointed out.

“Whatever. I guess you are kind of right, though. I mean, I am gonna ask you to sleep with me,” Eren said.

Jean made a choked sound.

“Not like _that_ , you dick,” Eren said, squeezing his hand gently. “I mean it would be kind of nice to like, I don’t know. Sleep in the same bed as you and… hug, or something.”

“You mean you want to cuddle?” Jean asked slowly.

This, of all things, seemed to make Eren embarrassed. “What? That’s not weird, is it?”

Jean laughed loudly. “What the hell, why did no one warn me that you were secretly actually really adorable and not just really annoying.”

Eren seemed to get increasingly more flustered at Jean’s words. Jean made a mental note to compliment Eren more often, particularly if this was the result.

“In case you’re curious,” Jean said, “yes. I don’t mind cuddling or sharing a bed with you. But that’s all for now. I mean it,” Jean said seriously. “I will kick your ass across the room.”

Eren nodded solemnly. “I can agree to those terms.”

“Cool. So can we go to bed maybe? I’m tired. I think I ate too much.”

Eren snorted. “I _know_ I ate too much.”

“You always eat too much. I swear, watching you eat meals is an event. It’s like you’re eating for two people. I have no idea how you’re so fit,” Jean said, and definitely not because he was even slightly jealous.

Eren stood, visibly preening at Jean’s use of the word “fit” and pulling Jean up with him before stretching languidly. “Mikasa says I have a very high metabolism. Plus I need fuel if I’m going to be arguing with you all the time, so it’s just battlefield preparedness, really. Constant vigilance, and all that. Did you learn nothing in Defense Against The Dark Arts?”

Jean groaned, stumbling along after Eren as he was lead up the stairs to their dorm and trying not to feel nervous at the prospect of cuddling up to the guy he’d been nursing a growing crush over for the better part of the last six years.

Marco would have a cow if he knew what was going on at this moment. Jean had a feeling he probably _did_ know and was highly pleased at the results of his meddling, actually.

He rounded the corner of the stairs, mumbling to himself about Ravenclaws and trying to distract himself from thinking too much about what was coming next.

 

\---

 

It was a lot less eventful than Jean thought it would be. Largely because they both laid down and seemed to fall asleep nearly immediately.

There was something very comforting and strangely natural about having Eren so close. He drifted off feeling warm and safe and happy nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

\---

 

The next morning was an entirely different story, however.

Jean woke up slowly, feeling warm and comfortable. His right arm was almost completely numb, however, and when he tried to move it he found the task nearly impossible.

It suddenly registered in his brain that someone else was in the bed with him, and his eyes popped open, suddenly wide awake.

Eren was pressed tightly along his side, arm thrown around his waist to pull Jean close against him. His right leg was strewn across Jean’s thighs, Jean being sprawled on his back as he was, while Eren’s head was pillowed on his chest as he breathed deeply and evenly.

Jean had the strange and fleeting thought that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more happy in his entire life than he did in this moment. Something about waking up like this made everything that had happened between them in the last six years seem important, like a journey that had finally reached its destination.

Jean brought one hand up to tentatively touch the skin of Eren’s arm where it was draped across his torso, feeling the fine hairs of Eren’s forearm with the pads of his fingers just to see if he was real.

Eren sighed in his sleep, pulling Jean closer.

Nope. Not a dream. Definitely not a dream.

He turned his head slightly, breathing in the scent of Eren’s hair and trying not to feel embarrassed about how comforted it made him feel. He hadn’t realized before how recognizable Eren’s smell was to him until the familiarity of it wrapped itself around Jean’s heart, squeezing gently.

In all of their years of fighting, bickering, and eventually friendly rivalry, Jean had never imagined something like this would ever be possible between them.

He brought his still-numb right hand up to run it gently through Eren’s hair—hair which Jean had touched any number of times, though generally in the context of a scuffle of some sort.

Touching Eren’s hair now was a different game entirely. Jean took a moment to savor the feel of how surprisingly soft it was beneath his fingers.

Eren murmured, sitting his head up to look at Jean sleepily.

“Happy Christmas,” Jean ventured, voice still rough with sleep.

Eren gazed at him blearily for a moment before seeming to come to his senses, his face suddenly looking as red and splotchy as a strawberry.

Jean was still quietly giddy over the fact that Eren was reduced to an embarrassed heap over the notion of cuddling.

“Wasn’t a dream,” he mumbled as if genuinely surprised.

Jean hummed in agreement, smiling slightly and letting his eyes fall closed again, content to continue dozing comfortably in Eren’s arms.

He assumed Eren would do the same. He started when he felt a pair of lips touch his own.

“Thought you were sleepy,” Jean mumbled, glaring without heat at Eren’s messy bedhead—which was frankly more attractive than it had any right to be.

Eren ducked back down to tuck his face into Jean’s shoulder, where Jean could feel him grinning against his skin. “I woke up.”

“I can see that,” Jean said blandly, grinning at the canopy of the bed where Eren couldn’t see him.

He inhaled sharply when he felt Eren’s lips press gently against the line of his throat, mouth falling open in shock because that felt really, _really_ good.

“So,” Eren hedged, still grinning; Jean could feel it. “Any plans in particular for the day?”

Jean swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice at the moment and shaking his head instead.

“I don’t suppose I could tempt you into staying in bed all day with me?” Eren asked innocently.

Far, far too innocently for Eren Jaeger.

Jean scowled.

Eren seemed to read his mind. “That’s an invitation to stay in bed all day, make out, and cuddle, by the way.”

Jean considered it. Considered that it might even lead to other things, if they weren’t careful.

Decided that he didn’t really mind the idea of that too much.

“Ah, hell, why not,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around Eren and trying not to feel too self-conscious about it.

Eren laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “You being agreeable is like a Christmas miracle,” he said, nuzzling into the crook of Jean’s shoulder with his nose and somehow managing to send warm tingles of electricity all along Jean’s scalp.

“More like Christmas magic,” Jean grumbled, running a hand down the length of Eren’s back slowly and feeling triumphant when he heard Eren’s breath hitch.

“Now get off me so I can brush my teeth, you have horrible morning breath and I’ll probably die if I have to actually kiss you like this,” Jean huffed, shoving Eren off of him unceremoniously and laughing at the betrayed look on Eren’s face.

 _Best Christmas ever, hands down,_ Jean thought to himself, grinning as Eren tried to swat at him, already nagging at Jean about having thrown off the warmth of the covers in his haste for dental hygiene.

Marco would never let him hear the end of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to be tumblr buddies? Want to tell me all of your headcanons? Of course you do, who are you kidding, come talk to me and let's be weird together. xenophonspeaks.tumblr.com


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